The clearing grew eerily silent.

The only sounds were the shallow breaths of the Orcs and the faint rustle of the leaves in the wind.

Volk stared at Gar’ruk, whose massive frame knelt in the dirt, trembling from exhaustion.

Blood pooled beneath the Ogre, but there was something off—something unnatural in the way his body quivered.

Gar’ruk made a low, guttural sound, almost like a growl, but it carried a strange rhythm.

His head hung low, his massive shoulders rising and falling like tidal waves.

The Orcs exchanged wary glances, their weapons still raised, but none dared move closer.

“What’s he doing?” one of the Orcs whispered, his voice shaking.

“Is… is he surrendering?” another asked, his grip tightening on his weapon.

Volk narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him.

There was no surrender here.

The air had changed—thicker, heavier, charged with something primal. Gar’ruk wasn’t broken. He was waiting.

Volk stepped forward, his gauntlet gleaming as he raised a hand to silence the murmurs.

“Stay back,” he ordered, his voice firm but low. His crimson eyes scanned Gar’ruk, watching every twitch of muscle, every labored breath. “Something isn’t right.”

Gar’ruk’s growl grew louder, resonating like a drumbeat. His massive hands dug into the dirt, clawing at it as if trying to anchor himself. Then, he froze.

The sudden stillness was deafening.

Volk’s heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming louder than ever. “Gar’ruk,” he called, his voice sharp, trying to break the tension. “What are you doing?”

The Ogre didn’t respond.

Instead, his chest expanded, filling with an unnatural breath.

The sound of his lungs inflating was wrong—wet and guttural, like a storm brewing inside him.

His massive frame quaked, his head slowly lifting, his eyes glowing faintly with an ominous light.

“Get back!” Volk roared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

But before anyone could react, Gar’ruk threw his head back and unleashed a deafening roar.

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The cry wasn’t just a sound. It was a force.

The ground trembled violently beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing through the earth as if the land itself recoiled from the Ogre’s rage.

Trees swayed and groaned, their branches snapping under the sheer pressure of the sound.

The air vibrated, thick and oppressive, wrapping around the Orcs like an invisible chain.

Several Orcs stumbled, clutching their ears as the roar pierced through them. Some fell to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” one shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony.

“IT’S LIKE MY HEAD’S GOING TO SPLIT!” another cried, dropping his axe as he doubled over.

Volk stood firm, though his body tensed against the sheer weight of the sound. His gauntlet glowed faintly, reacting to the unnatural energy radiating from Gar’ruk.

The Ogre’s roar seemed to stretch on forever, a primal, unrelenting scream that carried the weight of something ancient and terrible. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

The silence that followed was almost worse.

Gar’ruk’s body slumped forward, his massive hands falling limp at his sides. His chest heaved one last time before his entire frame collapsed to the ground with a thunderous THUD.

The Orcs stared in stunned silence, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. None of them moved, their eyes locked on the lifeless form of the once-mighty Ogre.

“Is… is he dead?” one of them whispered, his voice barely audible.

Another stepped forward hesitantly, his weapon trembling in his hand. “Chief… what just happened?”

Volk didn’t answer immediately. His crimson eyes remained fixed on Gar’ruk’s corpse, his mind racing. The cry wasn’t just a death wail. It was a call. A warning.

He clenched his gauntlet, the metal creaking under the pressure. His jaw tightened, the weight of realization settling over him like a storm cloud.

Finally, he turned to face the horde, his expression grim.

“Be prepared,” Volk said, his voice cutting through the fear like steel.

The Orcs stiffened, their confusion giving way to unease.

“Prepared for what?” one of them asked, his voice trembling.

Volk glanced back at Gar’ruk’s body, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched it into a fist. “Something’s coming.”

The forest seemed to come alive with an eerie, unnatural energy.

The rustling of leaves above them grew louder, but it wasn’t from the wind.

The faint sound of wings flapping reached Volk’s ears. He turned his gaze skyward, squinting through the dense canopy of trees.

From the shadows of the branches, dark shapes shot upward.

Flap-flap-flap!

Birds—large, sleek, and utterly foreign to him—burst out of the trees in panicked flocks. Their cries were sharp and unnatural, almost metallic, as though fear itself had given them voice. Their wings gleamed with faint magical hues, leaving shimmering trails behind them as they vanished into the sky.

“What the—” one of the Orcs started, his eyes wide as he followed the strange creatures.

“Birds don’t fly like that,” another muttered. “Not unless—”

“Yeah,” Volk interrupted, his voice sharp and commanding. His eyes scanned the shifting forest, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second.

The birds weren’t the only ones fleeing.

Out of the underbrush, small, glowing creatures began darting into the open. Volk frowned, his gaze locking onto them.

They weren’t like any animals he’d ever seen before.

Some had sleek, crystal-like bodies that shimmered with pale blue light.

Others resembled small foxes, their tails ablaze with flickering, golden flames.

They dashed through the clearing, their movements frantic, their luminous forms leaving trails of light behind them.

“Chief…” an Orc whispered, taking a step back.

Volk held up a hand to silence him. His eyes narrowed, watching the creatures weave and scurry past.

Their movements weren’t random—they were all heading in the same direction. Away.

From something.

The buzzing came next.

A low, droning hum that grew louder with each passing second.

Volk’s eyes darted to the edges of the clearing as a swarm of insects poured out of the foliage like a living river.

Beetles with glowing carapaces.

Moths the size of a human hand, their wings pulsating with faint green light.

Even monstrous centipedes, their segmented bodies radiating a dull red glow, scuttled past in a frenzy.

“By the Horde…” one of the Orcs muttered, his face pale as he watched the tide of insects rush past their feet.

Volk frowned. Insects didn’t flee unless the very earth itself had turned against them. He opened his mouth to issue a command but stopped short.

The ground trembled beneath him.

At first, it was faint—so subtle it might have been the weight of his imagination. But then it grew stronger.

Thud… Thud…

The tremors came in steady intervals, like the beat of a massive drum. Each one was heavier than the last, rippling through the ground and shaking loose the dirt at their feet.

“Chief!” one of the Orcs cried, stumbling as the earth shook harder.

THUD. THUD.

The vibrations were no longer subtle.

The tremors rattled the forest, shaking trees and sending loose branches tumbling to the ground.

The rhythmic thudding was joined by a deep, guttural rumble—low and ominous, like the growl of some ancient beast waking from slumber.

Volk’s crimson eyes darted from one side of the clearing to the other.

The forest was alive with noise now—birds screeching, insects buzzing, the ground groaning under an unseen weight. Yet, through the chaos, his instincts honed in on something else.

A presence.

“Hold your ground!” Volk commanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the rising panic of his horde.

But the Orcs were not listening.

“This isn’t right, Chief!” one of them shouted, his eyes darting around wildly. “This place—it’s cursed! We shouldn’t be here!”

“We need to leave!” another pleaded, gripping his axe tightly as his knuckles turned white.

“Look at the animals!” a third cried. “Even the forest is running away!”

Volk turned, his crimson gaze locking onto the panicked faces of his horde. He raised his hand high, demanding silence. “Enough!” he barked.

The Orcs froze, their fear momentarily subdued by the force of Volk’s voice.

“This isn’t the time for cowards!” Volk growled, his voice like steel. “Whatever it is, we face it! We are the Horde!”

“But Chief…” one of them muttered, his voice trembling. “This doesn’t feel like something we can fight.”

Volk’s eyes narrowed. “Are you Orcs or mewling goblins?” he spat. “Stand your ground!”

The tremors grew stronger still, the earth beneath their feet shifting and groaning. A loud CRACK split the air as a nearby tree toppled, its ancient trunk splitting clean in two.

And then, through the trees, the first shadow appeared.

It was massive, looming over the forest like a mountain come to life. It moved with deliberate, thunderous steps, the ground quaking with every motion.

The Orcs froze, their gazes locked on the colossal silhouette.

“What is that…” one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise.

Volk’s jaw tightened. His gauntleted fist clenched at his side as more shadows emerged behind the first, each one massive and monstrous, their movements slow but purposeful.

He didn’t need the system to tell him what was coming.

“Be prepared,” Volk said, his voice low but steady. His crimson eyes burned with resolve as he stared at the encroaching shadows.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep